


Twice Shy

by galimau, Oceanbreeze7



Series: Aphasia [2]
Category: Alex Rider - Anthony Horowitz
Genre: Aphasia-verse, Gen, potential spoilers for main story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:47:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27032935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galimau/pseuds/galimau, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oceanbreeze7/pseuds/Oceanbreeze7
Summary: Once bitten...Alex doesn't like dogs. He used to, he's pretty sure, but since the incident, everything about them has soured. There's a sort of karmic irony that he spends as much time around them as he does.
Relationships: Yassen Gregorovich & Alex Rider
Series: Aphasia [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1972951
Comments: 10
Kudos: 90





	Twice Shy

**Author's Note:**

> As Kae said in her original note, this was the first thing that we'd ever seriously plotted. It was The First Thing I ever seriously wrote, and I'm so lucky to be able to share it. This verse means so much to me, and I'm glad that I can contribute. 
> 
> It is not necessarily canon for Sleeping Dogs Lie, though there may some spoilers for the main story.

Alex is on his way to the dog kennels, and isn’t happy about it.

He avoids them when he can. They’re noisy, and stink no matter how clean they’re kept. That much input makes it hard to stay focused on what other people are doing - the few times he went with Yassen to speak to someone near the dog runs, he’d found himself distracted by the animals’ loping movement and large teeth, unable to pick up the thread of the conversation when he refocused on who he was supposed to be watching. 

Alex knows the value of keeping the animals around. He’s seen the numbers, knows that it’s a steady source of more legitimate income for SCORPIA. People are willing to pay tens of thousands of dollars for trained guard dogs, more disposable and loyal than hired security might be.

And people, even the type of people that they did business with, get attached to animals. Less risk than caring about a person, Alex supposes. 

So he keeps quiet about his distaste for it all, no moaning at Yassen when business takes them down there. It wouldn’t make a difference in the end, and Yassen’s patience with Alex’s moods is limited where work is concerned. 

There’s other reasons too, but Alex prefers not to think about them. 

People knowing he dislikes dogs would be one thing. Yassen knowing how uncomfortable the kennels make him would be something else; too much of a window into things that Alex would prefer to ignore even inside his own head. His mentor can probably tell anyways, because it sometimes seems like he knows everything, but very rarely their inability to speak to each other suits Alex just fine. This is one of those times.

The trained dogs SCORPIA houses and uses make him uneasy for reasons that go beyond the practical and into something achingly personal. He can’t seem to escape reminders of why he dislikes them so much either, no matter how he tries.

He remembers a few weeks ago when, on an otherwise unremarkable day, he was exercising alone outside, taking advantage of Yassen’s busy schedule to enjoy the sun and heat. Alex had nearly finished, cooling down from his run and getting ready to return to their rooms and go over the blueprints Yassen left him, when he heard his clicker from the other end of the field. Distance made the noise faint, but it was clearly the signal for his attention. One of the teachers ( _male, dark skin, tight ponytail, muscular_ ) Alex had no experience with was by the gate, clicker in hand and looking expectantly toward him.

Alex had headed over, curious about why he was being called - was Yassen held up in a meeting, did he want Alex, were they being sent off unexpectedly - but when he stopped in front of the man and the few students with him, there was surprise on the teacher’s face and tension in the set of his shoulders.

It was a common reaction to Alex, even though it baffled him every time. He was hardly dangerous, only fifteen years old and clinging to functionality by the skin of his teeth most days. 

He’d concluded it was because of his relationship to Yassen. Everyone was on edge around _him_ , to the point that the collective nervousness gave Alex a headache. 

Alex waited politely for the teacher to get to the point. All Alex needed was a gesture to the main building or the airfield and once he knew what was wanted from him Alex could make his own way. But the direction didn’t come, the teacher just kept glancing nervously at Alex. 

He used the clicker again, louder this time.

Alex shifted, getting irritated.

People always thought he wasn’t paying attention to them, or that doing the same thing more loudly or slowly made a difference. It didn’t. 

Alex wished it did, but it didn’t. 

When the teacher raised the clicker a third time, Alex almost grabbed at his hand to stop him.

It was the presence of the students that stopped him from following through on the impulse. If the teacher objected to being grabbed in front of his class, no one would bat an eye at whatever he did to Alex in response.

Instead, Alex stood there and tried to force his good-for-nothing brain to respond on purpose. Not even a word. He’d settle for a curious ‘hm?’. He chattered nonsense to Yassen all day long, sometimes not even realizing it, but no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t make himself speak on purpose.

He was just about to give up and try and go find Yassen himself when a dog burst from the underbrush by the trees, a practice target in its jaws. Alex watched it come to a neat heel beside the teacher, drop the target and sit expectantly. 

Alex went very still, and tried not to look at anyone else.

That’s what stuck with Alex the most when he thinks back to that day - the moment of horrified realization that he’d gotten confused by a _dog training_ exercise. He’s not sure if the teacher realized what had happened - they hadn’t interacted much, only seen each other in passing in the cafeteria or on the grounds. The students hopefully hadn’t put the pieces together at all. 

Leaving would have felt like running away, admitting what had happened even if only to himself. Instead, Alex stayed, breathing through the rising flush on his cheeks and doing everything possible to prevent anyone from guessing what just happened. Standing by the fence with the class, he tried very hard to pretend that he had meant to join them all along, ignoring the physical wave of embarrassment crawling up his spine and the _careful-watching-question_ in the bodies of the students when they watched him.

He’d come to heel before the damn dog. 

Maybe if it had been with Yassen, he’d even be proud of that - response time was important. If he was good enough, fast enough, he’d get left behind less often while Yassen went on jobs. 

Knowing that didn’t change the fact that Alex twitched every time the clicker sounded, or that by the end of the class he was jittery and anxious, desperately wanting instructions that no one was giving him, because _it wasn’t his cue_.

The dog ran the field, retrieving targets and practicing recall to the teacher who kept looking sideways with more and more dislike at Alex. It wasn’t that Alex didn’t like dogs, but something in his gut twisted a little tighter the longer he stood there, caught between trained response and trying to maintain his dignity. As soon as the class finished and the dog was walked back to the kennel, Alex slunk away to his room, shivering under his skin with pent up energy and nowhere to direct it.

He made a point to check the training fields for dogs the next day.

So. Alex doesn’t like the kennels, and tries to avoid them as much as possible. For a lot of reasons, some of them more unpleasant than the others.

The only reason he’s heading there tonight is because he’s walking with one of the newest students ( _male, military experience, aggressive_ ), mostly to be polite. While the students are at the school, they’re replaceable, but Alex has seen the investment sheets. If someone graduates, they’re worth a lot of money to SCORPIA. More than Alex is, to be sure. He’s not an operative. He’s not anything, really. If he has a number attached to a file somewhere, Yassen has kept it from him.

The student came up to him after his practice at the gun range looking lost, miming dog ears and snapping his teeth. It’s so rare that anyone talks to Alex at all that he’d been willing to delay his meal to try and help out. 

Halfway to the kennels, Alex is regretting that impulse already. 

“ ~~Do you even know how funny this is~~ ,” he says as they walk past the main building. 

Asks, going by his tone of voice, for all the good that does Alex.

“ ~~Huh.~~ ~~They weren’t kidding. None of us can figure out what Gregorovich was thinking, partnering with you~~ ~~.~~ ”

Alex stops his face from twitching in irritation with the force of long practice. It’s easier to ignore the voice that still insists he should be able to understand people when they’re talking to each other instead of at him. Observing other people is informative. Trying to interact with them is just frustrating.

With no response from Alex, the other guy falls silent too, matching his brisk pace across the grounds. Alex is ready to get the dining hall - he’s hungry and Yassen is coming back from his operation early tomorrow, which means Alex wants to wake up as soon as possible to make sure everything is in order. It’s been a long job for Yassen, and Alex is getting lonely.

They reach the kennels in good time, and Alex is about to go on his way, done building goodwill with SCORPIA for the day, when the student speaks again.

“ ~~You’re leaving me here~~?”

He his voice sounds _worried-asking-needy_ , and his hands are open and spread wide. It doesn’t fit with the coil of violence Alex knows from watching him train, and he eyes the student carefully, suddenly cautious of his intentions. Either something has gone wrong with his classes and he’s been backed into a corner tonight, or this one has an irregular temperament. Which would be a shame, because Alex would have wasted time doing a favor for someone unlikely to survive until graduation. SCORPIA has no use for loose cannons. 

He should just leave, and get to dinner like he planned. But despite everything, Alex tries to be kind when he can afford to be. He follows the student into the kennel, careful to keep his distance. The student’s not moving like he’s armed, but he has combat experience and if it comes to a fight, Alex will have to seriously hurt him to keep him down. 

Yassen might not care about what happens to a random student, but the teaching staff certainly do. Alex gets very very bored if he’s barred from touring classes while Yassen is away. 

It’s his caution which causes the problem in the end.

The student walks all the way to the back, scanning the kennels and the cubbies beside them as if he’s looking for something specific, ignoring the warning barks from the dogs when he gets too near their doors. Alex has half an eye on him and half an eye on the dogs - just in case - when the student turns on his heel and rushes back down the aisle. He’s moving fast and not looking at Alex, so Alex slips aside to let him pass. 

Whatever he was hoping to find, it isn’t in here. Alex almost feels sorry for him - mistakes are costly in a place like this. There’s _anger-fear-hurry_ in the set of the student’s back as he storms to the door, and Alex is already done with whatever drama this man has in his life, thinking about dinner instead. He’s going to be late, but Nile will make room for him at the table if he’s there. 

Nile’s decent that way, and a distant second on the list of people Alex likes working with. Nile is all talk and smiles where Yassen is quiet and ice, but they share the same dangerous grace when they move, and that surety means Alex can move with them.

Distracted, Alex realizes his mistake the second it happens: as student exits, there’s a sudden spike of frenzy in how he scrabbles at the lock and handle. Alex lunges forward to grab him and catches a vicious backhand across the face. It throws him off balance, scraping his face down the concrete wall, and by the time he recovers, Alex gets a door slammed in his face for his trouble. 

The world turns dark and loud.

Alex can’t hear the student on the other side of the door: if he’s happy with himself or worried about getting caught doing this to Alex. The dogs have whipped themselves into a frenzy, the running and unexpected company making them throw their bulk against their chain-link doors, the rattling and baying echoing in the concrete walls and through his skull. Alex can’t hear himself think. It’s just noise, and darkness and the handle with no give under his hand.

He’s locked in.

The indignity of falling victim to a crude prank - a cruel prank - and being stuck in a dank black box with animals trained to rip people apart pulls his lips back from his teeth in a snarl. 

One of those problems is solvable - there’s probably a light-switch near the door. Alex could find it, but he really doesn’t want to rile the animals up any more than they already are. His eyes will adjust - there are small windows, used for ventilation more than anything else, along the tops of the walls. It’s not pitch black, it just feels like it is. 

He rests his head against the metal door until the bitterness and rage die down - no dinner tonight, because he’s _stupid_ , and tries not to wonder who will find him. Nile may be friendly, but he’d hardly go looking for Alex. Yassen won’t be back until tomorrow morning, and that suddenly feels longer than ever before. 

It will, Alex concludes unhappily, be whoever feeds the dogs in the morning, and that means it’ll be all over the school. More gossip about him that he can’t understand, only feel in the prickle of eyes on his back. That he’ll at least know what it’s about this time is cold comfort.

He sighs and picks his way carefully to the back wall, avoiding coming too close to the dogs on either side of him. They aren’t happy he’s in their space, which is fair because Alex isn’t too pleased about it either. He settles against the wall and sits on the floor, prods the tender spots on his face and feels the sting of fingers against raw skin. He’s going to bruise, at the very least.

The minutes slip by and his eyes adjust to the gloom, the dogs bedding down around him, except the one he’s nearest to, which is quiet but watchful. Alex can see the light reflecting off its eyes, taller than he is while sitting down.

It isn’t growling, but doesn’t seem entirely comfortable that he’s sitting next to its cage, either. Alex keeps his body loose and calm, as little a threat as he can be. Eventually the dog settles too, letting out a low moaning sound, head down but eyes alert.

Alex agrees. He’s upset and hungry, and very aware in the darkness of just how young and alone he is. He wants not to be here, to be in his own room or in the dining hall with Nile. He wants Yassen. 

Alex puts his head on his knees and grumbles to himself, soft comforting noises that don’t mean anything except for how very, very tired he is. The floor is cold but dry, and by the time that the only noise in the kennel are the sounds of the dogs’ heavy breathing, Alex has soothed the worst of his temper away. He’s spent nights in worse places, even if those were all on assignments. He curls into a ball, careful not to rattle the cage of his nearest neighbor, pillows his arms, and chases sleep.

When he wakes up, it’s to pale light coming through the slotted windows and something wet and warm touching his face. Alex cracks his eye open and discovers that he rolled in his sleep toward the same dog that was watching him last night. His face is pressed against the chain fence, and the dog is licking the parts of him it can reach with determination. Its tongue is surprisingly long, which is a discovery Alex could have done without. He sits up and scrubs at his face, feels the indentation from the chainlinks, fresh scrapes where wires scratched him in the night, and the wetness of drool stiffening in his hair. He knows he slept, but he feels barely rested. Part of him wants to curl back up and try again to sleep, but most of him is tired of being on the floor.

He stretches the stiffness out from his muscles and ignores the half-hearted warning sounds from a few of the dogs when he walks up and down the aisle. They’re not alarmed by him any more, just defensive of their space. Alex goes through the motions of a few more exercises to chase sleep from his mind and settles back down by the rear wall, watching the light in the windows and wondering when he’s going to be found. There’s a clipboard hanging from a peg by the front door but it’s worse than unhelpful. That’s been one of the hardest habits to break - Alex has almost grown used to slur of noise that people speak in now, but he still finds himself glancing at papers, expecting to understand them. 

At one point he’d been at the top of his class.

Alex shakes his head to banish the pointless memory and stands to pace the aisle again.

Just when _did_ they feed the dogs? He’d assumed in the mornings, but fear that he was wrong is starting to itch at the base of his skull. The light outside is getting brighter, more like actual morning than dawn and every time he notices, it makes him more anxious.

There’s every chance that Yassen will arrive at the school soon, and find Alex missing. 

Will he think that Alex forgot he was coming home? 

Alex raises his hand to his mouth and gnaws at his knuckle, worry fluttering under his breastbone. He works hard to be good. He can’t do much, so he tries to do well what he can. And beyond that is the simple fact that he wants to make Yassen proud. Not everyone would have taken in a smartass teen who can’t talk or read, and even though the memory of Ian’s death still stings, he’s grateful for Yassen’s training. 

Alex walks another lap, back and forth. 

The dogs are properly awake now, many of them watching him pace, following him with their heads. Some whine softly, picking up on his nerves. They’re intelligent animals, chosen for their sensitivity to their handlers and willingness to please. 

They might not know Alex, but they’re responsive to his stress. 

Only a firm desire not to start them barking again makes Alex stop in the corner where he slept. Whether or not Yassen is back yet doesn’t really matter; Alex is stuck here either way.

He forces himself to calm down and sits back down to wait to be found. The dog he’s started thinking of as his ‘neighbor’ immediately sticks its nose through the gaps between the links, sniffing at him enthusiastically. 

When Alex rubs one finger along the soft fur and whiskers on its nose, the long tongue shoots out again to lap at his wrist. 

Apparently he’s made a friend.

He still doesn’t like SCORPIA’s dogs, but this one is less bad than the others. 

When it paws at the base of the cage, the fencing bowing out a bit with the force of one hundred plus pounds of canine enthusiasm, Alex uses both hands to scratch its forehead and droopy mouth, cooing ‘ _good-happy-pleased_ ’ noises. He nearly catches a tongue to the eye as a result, but something about it makes him smile, just a bit. 

He passes the time petting his new friend and trying to meditate, keeping an eye on the light from the windows and under the door. It feels like forever, but is probably no more than two more hours when someone finally comes to check the dogs. 

A key scrabbles in the lock outside, and the dogs being barking frantically. Whether for food or training, someone is coming in and that means all the attention is off Alex. He stands politely near the back, not crowding the door even though he wanted to be out of the kennel hours ago, and tries to project ‘ _helpme-please-sorry’_ as clearly as possible with his body. Hopefully this person will let him go without comment.

When Alex sees who’s at the door, he knows it's not going to be that simple. It’s the teacher from the training exercise weeks ago, looking even less happy with Alex’s presence in his kennel than he had Alex’s intrusion into his class. 

“ ~~What are you doing in here~~?” He sounds angry, and it puts Alex on edge immediately. The teacher is still standing in the doorway, blocking off the exit. Alex sways on the balls of his feet, considering his options.

~~“ I said, what the hell do you think you’re doing in here? These are valuable animals, boy, not pets~~.” 

Definitely angry, and not likely to let Alex slip out without making a fuss. 

Alex tries anyways, makes himself small and sad, shoulders hunched by his ears and inching forward slowly. Not something he’d usually try with one of SCORPIA’s people, but worth a shot to get free. 

It doesn’t work. 

“ ~~Get over here, now. We’re going to have words, I promise you that. You think just because Gregorovich lets you run all over the place, you don’t need to pay attention to the rules~~?” 

A long string of words, and not much else to go on for tone. The same anger, maybe the hint of a question. Alex straightens up, honestly at a loss for what to do next. He can’t tell if the man remembers Alex can’t understand him. Some people talk without any expectation of response, but there’s a level of outrage in the man’s voice that makes Alex think that isn’t the case here. 

“ ~~Get over here, _now,_ ~~” the man says, and snaps, pointing at the doorway.

Alex perks up. That much, he knows. 

He approaches cautiously and is rewarded by the man stepping aside. Whatever he’s upset about pales in the face of Alex’s freedom from the dog kennel. 

“ ~~Stay here. I’ll deal with you after I feed them~~ ,” the teacher gestures at the row of barking dogs.

Alex cocks his head. Less angry now, more intent on the animals than he is on Alex. He must have wanted Alex away from the (his?) dogs. When the man moves away from him, heading into the kennel, Alex leaves. He wants to shower, and see if Yassen has arrived yet. There’s still a chance all this will be a very stupid night that no one needs to remember.

Well. Until Alex finds that student again and makes his thoughts about being locked in with the dogs very well known. 

Wanting to be on good terms with the students doesn’t mean his patience is infinite. 

He’s heading down the path back to the permanent rooms when he hears a furious shout behind him. Alex turns to find the teacher storming after him, face like a thundercloud and holding ‘ _threat-anger-intent’_ in every line of his body. 

Alex goes still. It’s a response that’s been conditioned into him by experience and Yassen’s unrelenting hand. If he’s attacked, Alex will do his best to put this man on his back non-fatally, but he will defend himself. 

Luckily, no one who works for SCORPIA is the type of idiot to get into a fight with someone of unknown combat abilities. 

The man comes to a stop, spitting mad but out of arms reach. Alex stays alert for any sudden movements.

~~“ Come with me. We’re finding your owner and I’m telling him to keep you away from my dogs~~ ,” he says, jerking his head toward the main building on campus. That too, Alex can understand, and trots after him, keeping his distance but willing to do nearly anything if it means that he’ll be left alone for the rest of the morning. 

He starts re-thinking that commitment as they make their way indoors and past curious eyes from students and other staff, who don’t even bother to muffle their voices as they start talking. It doesn’t bother Alex as much as it used to, but part of him still wants to lash out and tell them that it’s just _rude._

The teacher’s posture shifts to _‘caution-respect-question’_ as they go further inside, approaching the central offices, and Alex takes petty satisfaction that everyone is nervous when confronted with SCORPIA’s elite. 

They’re heading toward the principal’s office, the teacher irritated, Alex resigned, when the door swings open in front of them. D’Arc steps out, followed closely by a grim-looking Yassen, whose eyes snap to Alex.

Immediately, Alex wants to protest that this _isn’t his fault, really_ , feels a whimper building in his chest to try ward off the chilly displeasure he can see on his mentor’s face. Alex bites down on his tongue, not willing to make a fool of himself in public. It’s bad enough when those sounds escape in private, much less around other people. 

Sometimes he wishes that he really was mute, after all.

The teacher falters in the face of one of SCORPIA’s top agents and the man who runs the school. Not that D’Arc stays long - he glances at Alex and the teacher, back at Yassen, and moves past them with quick efficiency. 

With Yassen looking that upset, it’s no surprise. If the teacher has any sense, he’ll leave too. Alex can’t tell if it’s bravery or stupidity that makes him stay and start to talk.

“ ~~Cossack, I mean this with full respect to you, but your pet project can’t be given free run of the school while you’re away. No one else can keep a hold of him, and~~ ~~-~~ ”

Yassen ignores him, walking forward to grab Alex’s face, turning it side to side clinically. 

Alex flushes, suddenly very aware that he still has scratches on his cheek and dried slobber in his hair. After his night in the kennels, he must look as badly as he feels. He wants to retreat back down the hallway, possibly into a dark hole in the ground, but Yassen is merciless. 

He finishes his examination and looks past Alex.

“ ~~What happened~~?”

Yassen keeps one knuckle under Alex’s chin, and so Alex keeps still, face tilted toward Yassen and unable to see if other people are watching, or even the teacher who is sputtering a reply to whatever Yassen said. Its as close to a demand for total attention as Yassen ever makes, and Alex tries not to feel nervous at how exposed it leaves him. 

If someone comes at him, Yassen will stop them. Alex has to trust that. 

“ ~~Your boy broke into the kennels to rile up my dogs. I found him there this morning when I went to feed them. We limit who has contact with those dogs for a reason, they’re several thousand a piece for training and I won’t see that lost because a damaged teenager decided they’re pets~~ ,” the teacher spits, and steps closer.

Alex shifts nervously in response and Yassen’s thumb brushes the underside of his jaw. A motion so small it barely exists, but Alex calms. It means _'here-safe-mine'_ and that's enough for him. 

Yassen’s tone is glacial when he replies. “ ~~I promise you, whatever you spent on those animals is a nothing compared to the value of my time training Alex~~ .” That same small movement of Yassen’s thumb comes again. “ ~~If you imply otherwise again, I will execute every one of them in that kennel before I do the same to you. No one will complain~~.” 

The teacher is breathing hard all of a sudden, and Alex can hear him shuffling his feet. Alex blinks up at Yassen, wishes he could turn around and look behind him. Yassen’s face is the same icy mask it's been since he stepped out of the principal’s office, and no help to Alex.

“ ~~Yes, Cossack. Understood~~ ,” the teacher says, and then comes the sound of footsteps retreating down the hall. 

Yassen retracts his hand, and Alex spins around just in time to see the teacher’s back disappear around the corner. There’s a few other staff and students busying themselves down the hallway, pretending not to be paying attention. Before Alex can decide if this is a good or bad thing, Yassen is walking, moving with purpose. The students scatter out of his way, and Alex hurries to catch up. 

Yassen still looks angry, but where anger stiffened the teacher’s spine and sharpened his voice into something that grated against Alex’s ears, Yassen’s rage runs silent and turns his usually graceful movement into something that borders on surreal. Alex has no illusions that he’s anywhere close to his mentor in skill, but right now he feels outright clumsy in comparison. 

Down the path and into the living quarters, no one bothers them or even comes near, and when their door clicks closed behind them, Alex half-expects to catch the brunt of Yassen’s temper for vanishing without notice and getting caught off-guard. If there’s one thing Yassen dislikes, it’s incompetence. 

Alex eyes the door to his room, wonders if he could make a break for it. Maybe if he disappears for a few hours, they can pretend this never happened. He’s tired and doesn’t want to deal with Yassen’s disappointment. 

Before the thought of escape can fully form, Yassen snaps and points at the sofa. 

Alex sits. 

Yassen moves to the sink, runs the water and pulls their small medical kit - nothing for sutures, no syringes - from the drawer. When he returns, it’s with a glass of water, sterilizing wipes, and a hot rag. 

Alex didn’t realize he was thirsty, but he gulps the water down fast and wipes his mouth with the back of his wrist. Yassen holds out a hand for the cup, and Alex returns it without protest. He wants more, but is staying ‘sat’ on the sofa for now. Yassen told him to, and right now Alex isn’t about to argue. His chest is trembling with exhaustion and something worse that Alex can’t make himself name. 

Yassen sits beside him on the couch, reaching for his face and this time Alex presses into the contact wholeheartedly. The cloth is warm and pleasantly rough, and Yassen’s hands are gentle and firm as he cleans the side of Alex’s face and scrubs the stiff patches in his hair. Alex’s eyes drift shut, and he doesn’t open them until he feels the cool swipe of the antiseptic. None of the scrapes Alex picked up are serious, Yassen is just being very careful with him. 

The thought hits him oddly, and Alex twitches back, suddenly wary.

Yassen lets him go.

Alex does what he _should_ have done as soon as he saw Yassen again, embarrassed to be dragged in by a teacher or not. Alex was only in a kennel overnight - Yassen was coming back from a mission. Alex squints at him, looking for any hidden pains or scuffs on his mentor. He can be annoyingly good at concealing injuries, despite how mad he gets if Alex tries the same.

Yassen tolerates the scrutiny for a minute before he gets up, looking amused around the edges. 

That means he’s probably fine, so Alex relaxes again. 

Yassen refills the water glass and grabs a granola bar from the pantry, tosses it to Alex, who catches it gratefully. He missed dinner and breakfast, and the bars Yassen keeps on-hand may not taste good but they do fill him up. 

By the time Alex has wolfed down the makeshift meal, Yassen has settled back on the couch, at the other end this time. 

“ ~~Who did this to you~~?” 

Alex’s face screws up. There’s nothing in Yassen’s voice to give a clue about what he means. Alex whines at him, uncertain of how he should respond. 

“ ~~Someone locked you in~~.” 

At this Alex turns his entire body toward Yassen, blinking wide eyes, that same desperate shaking under his ribs coming back with a vengeance. Yassen sounds upset, and Alex doesn’t know why.

He’s making noise, he can hear himself babbling ‘ _confused-upset-question_ ’ sounds in reply to Yassen’s words and can’t stop. He’s too tired and feels too fragile to keep a tight hold on himself right now. Yassen doesn’t care about that - he _can’t,_ because even the thought of Yassen disliking Alex’s noises makes his mouth taste coppery with fear - but Alex hates losing control of his voice. Hates even more that it’s getting harder to stay quiet than it used to be. 

Yassen closes his eyes, and sighs through his nose. He tilts his head back against the cushion on the couch, looking as tired as Alex feels. 

They stay still for a while, Alex’s confusion and hurt running its course and quieting while Yassen lets it, breathing slowly in and out. 

The quiet is broken by a loud yawn from Alex that surprises him more than Yassen, and he’s abruptly reminded that he spent the last night on cold cement. He slept, but it wasn’t exactly restful, and the morning was stressful. He still doesn’t know what the teacher is saying about him, or where he ran off to after confronting Yassen. Alex is about to get up and go to bed for a nap, or maybe just sleep, when Yassen reaches behind them to the usually-neglected blanket rack, passing one to Alex without opening his eyes.

Alex hardly believes it - that’s as good an invitation as he’s ever going to get, and he leaps at the chance Yassen is offering. He pulls the blanket around his shoulders and moves down the couch, bunching it under him for a pillow and curling next to Yassen’s warmth.

Alex waits for Yassen to move, maybe to grab a book or turn on the news, but he stays still and quiet so Alex burrows closer to his side, pressing his feet into the opposite end of the sofa, stretching the long night and bad morning away. He buries his nose in the blanket, closes his eyes and matches his breathing to the steady rhythm of Yassen's.

He dozes for a long time, and when one of Yassen’s hands land on his hair, Alex barely cracks an eye open. It’s the middle of the day, and even though he knows they must both be missing things, if he’s made to get up from the sofa Alex might revolt.

But Yassen only cards his hand through Alex’s hair, fingernails scratching lightly over the tight skin where his scars knotted up - they always seem to itch, just a little. 

Alex closes his eye again, murmuring in appreciation, and drifts off to a sleep that is dark and quiet and dreamless. 

Beside him, unseen and unnoticed, Yassen’s lips twitch into a bitter smile. 


End file.
